#brian thomas mh

[mickey-bees]

attempted to emulate the style of the comics. brian probably laid there for hours unable to move before he died

[strawberyz]

Damn bitch the fuck you're doing on the floor staring at me like that

Lil guys <3 he's talking to his pookie btw

[marcati1]

[mrsselfdestruct]

the twins

[theamberparadise]

Vixen | HOODIE (+various creepypasta) x Reader | SMUT DRABBLE

SYPNOSIS; You've landed a job as a helping hand for the mansion. Everyone's eyes are on you-- but Hoodie wants to be the very first to ruin you.

TW; hoodie installs secret cameras to watch reader shower, d3gr4d4t10n, j34l0usy s3x, d33pthr04t1ng, g*npl4y, squ1rt1ng, 3dg1ng, hum1l14t10n, r3c0rd3d s3x, h41rpull1ng, sp1tt1ng, b3gg1ng, thr34ts of bl4ckm41l, cr34mp13, mention of g3tt1ng pr3gn4nt but not actually happening, m4s0ch1st1c behavior from reader, s4d1st1c behavior from hoodie, reader being a brat, reader loves this shit lmfao

A/N; another one of my man. also, please tell me if i get another tag wrong lmao. I wanted to make this appear as reader loving hoodie's creepy little antics but yeah give me a heads up if i get any tags wrong

He couldn't help himself. Or at least, that's what he's been telling himself.

You were just so pretty. And Hoodie likes pretty things.

He was ensnared when you first entered the mansion’s common room. Eyes darting around. Hair frayed in the most perfect messy-but-sexy way. White, tight tank top that stopped right under your tits, the fabric squeezing them and pushing them together. Disgraceful, tiny little shorts that revealed half your ass when you walked. Everyone had their eyes on you— the new pretty girl that was recruited as an extra reconnoiter, a handy weapons forager, the mansion’s part-time cleaner. You looked like you didn’t belong there. You looked too innocent, too mellow— too normal. A flower in a garden of thorns. A lamb in the lion’s den. Hoodie didn’t need to look around. Everyone in that room was plotting on what they’d do to you— hell, Masky was palming his own crotch, hand careful not to bump the table. Kate was secretly playing with her tits under the thick fabric of her jacket. And Toby? He was drooling, the nasty dog. The others? Jeff, on the couch, clicking his tongue as if you were some kind of pet, occasionally dropping lewd catcalls here and there– absolutely bathing in your cute little winces every time he makes them. BEN beside him, eyes fixed on your turned back– maybe more on your ass– controller in hand, game completely forgotten. EJ, on the far left corner of the couch, grunting under his breath every time you bent down to take extra wipes from the drawers. LJ was frozen in the corner. A terrifying smile plastered ear to ear, and a little drool might be trickling down his chin.

It wasn't only the men.

Natalie, leaning on the wall adjacent to the couch, eyes locked on you while she whispered dirty little fantasies about you inside Nina’s ear. Was she trying to make you hear them? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, Nina was already pressing her legs together– every single detail making her giggle. Jane, however, did not speak. Only grip her shotgun a little tighter, free hand sneakily inching under the seams of her slitted dress, gaining rhythm in coordination with how your tits swayed with every itsy bitsy move. 

Hoodie noticed them all. And all of them, pissed him off.

He was going to be the first. Him. He was going to be the one to break in your little pussy. His pussy, under those goddamn shorts, waiting for him to finally treat it right. 

But first? He needed proof. Proof that it was him who won you first. And the other ones who wants to fuck you? Hoodie wants them to feel like they’re asking for permission— permission for something he definitely wouldn’t give up so easily. 

So, when your pretty little ass was bent over while scrubbing the tiles of his and Masky’s shared bathroom on the second floor, Hoodie broke into your room. Small, decently clear cameras in his back pocket, already connected to the valley of monitors inside his office. Smirk curling on the bottom of his face. Stomach churning, churning, churning– with sick excitement.

He was fast. All he had to do? Drill quiet, tiny holes in the most vulnerable and revealing corners in your bathroom. Screw on the micro-sized, audio-capturing cameras. One on the left corner of the ceiling. Another one in the dark nook inside the bath tub. And one, tiny, tiny one– in the center of your shower head. So he can see every part of you.

Hoodie was beaming. The image of you taking the shower head down in between your legs, giving him a full view of everything– pure taboo heaven.

Your still-bent-over ass served as a little treat for him when he came back upstairs. A reward for something that would get him in jail– but he’s not anyway. 

He tells you that you’re doing such a good job, and that you look better at this angle beneath him. He notices you squirming, trying to scrub faster so you could rinse, call it a day, and hit the bed. 

Then, as you were packing up, he stepped on your hand, pinning it onto the cold, solid floor. Not to hurt you. Just firm enough to wrack your nerves. Just enough to intimidate you.

You flinch. Then look up.

Hoodie smiles. Tilts his head. “How’s your stay going here?” A gentle, usual question. But the look on your face? Frail. Scared.

He likes that.

“... good,” you reply, meek as a mouse. Eyes wide. Hand still pinned on the floor, still keeping you there.

He hums. Laying pressure on his heel and lifting the pad of his rubbered sole up, releasing you from his silent trap. You don’t move immediately. You push out a small exhale, pack the last of the cleaning supplies in your bucket, and stand up. 

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t give way. Instead, he stands there, in the doorway, arms crossed, mask pulled up revealing a smirk waiting for you to try anything. Your ears go red– for whatever reason. Head bowed down like a sad puppy, bucket in both hands in front of your waist, eyes looking up at him so sweetly.

Without a word, he steps aside, body heat radiating off of him like a furnace as you walk by. A silent approval of your wordless request for permission. And he stayed there, watching your every step until the door of his shared bedroom clicked shut.

His hand reaches out, holding the base of his bathroom door knob, and swings it closed. He didn’t need to admire the freshly cleaned tiles. Didn’t want to.

What Hoodie did want, though, was to get on his surveillance cameras and watch you bare.

So when the faintest sound of you entering the shower called to him from his monitor mid-change, being shirtless with pants half-up didn’t stop him from sitting down immediately on the squeaky-ass chair.

The shower squeaked, pipes groaning before the water spurts out. He could see that you were tired— poor little thing. Your eyes tired and your spirit off-guard, a chance for you to rest and refresh yourself without anybody intruding. 

That doesn't mean they can't watch. 

Article by article, your body slowly reveals itself by the passing minute. Hoodie, still perched on his old office chair, joins you. His boxers come off in the midst of you unclasping your bra. Pants completely pooling on itself on the floor when your panties followed. (A cute little pair, may he add.) 

You were perfect. Your bare, beautiful tits with your nipples tightened– the exact same color he imagined it would be. Your torso, finally, finally fully bare instead of the little peeks of your skin under the tank top. Flashes of your sexy ass greeting him from obscure angles. And your cunt– fucking hell. 

It took everything in him not to trudge his way into your room and fuck you right then and there. 

He was going to enjoy this. Fist already sliding up and down from the base of his cock. Tissues ready for him beside his table. Extra lube pulled from the drawers even if the huge drops of his pre-cum wouldn't suffice. 

But then, before you even stepped under the shower head– you stop. Eyes suddenly snapped back to its original, normal size. Staring into space. Body relaxed and frozen at the same time like you forgot something. 

Was it your shampoo? A sachet of conditioner? Lotion? 

Whatever it was, it didn't seem to bother you now. Because after your body goes solid, it starts moving again. Feet steady and shoulders let down like it wasn't stuck flat before. 

Hoodie doesn't take that lightly. He's the mind reader– the observer of everything in the mansion. So when you do something that doesn't make any sense? He's not letting it go that easily. 

He was still stuck on your absurd but short-lived behavior when you were already sliding the bar soap on your body, suds forming on your sides, enhancing your curves and smooth skin. 

It was then he realized what he came for in the first place– almost completely forgetting about your sudden halt and started stroking his thick cock. Not too fast, not too slow, either. Just enough to drag him on and save his climax for your best parts. 

“'S'fuckin pretty. You don't even got a clue on what you're doing to me right now, huh?” he mutters as if he was talking to you, fist slightly tightening around his cock, mimicking your pussy— his sick prediction for when he does get you into bed with him. 

Detaching the shower head from the holder, you start to cover most parts of your body— giving him the closest view of your pretty little tits, travelling down, down, down to your torso he can't wait to leave disgusting hickeys on, continuing to the sides of your hips—

Until your sweet little cunt was in view. 

Immediately, he clicked to full-screen, the shower head camera taking up all the space in the monitor. Hastily, he let go of his cock for just a moment, fingers pressing on the windows button first, and another on the print screen key. 

A screenshot of your wet cunt was now in his saves folder. 

Your clit was so cute. A small, sensitive little nub he would use to push you over the edge once you're in his hands. He might rub on it while you're on his cock. He might flick it with his tongue with two fingers in you, and feel gushes of your juice spill on his tongue. He might spit on it, laughing at your pathetic little jolt before fucking you silly. 

His fist scaled up in pace– fully planning to spurt his load right onto the monitor as if it were your real pussy– before cocking his eyebrow at your fingers slithering its way down to your clit, circling the slimy nub right in front of him. 

He smiled. 

Ah, so that's what you're doing. Rubbing your poor little pussy after a hard day's work, using the water pressure to get off, too. Dirty little thing. 

He starts stroking his cock again. Faster. Tighter. Ready. 

And then your sweet moans came. He can see at the very top of his monitor that you were holding back. Restraining yourself to not go all out and disturb the whole mansion. Trying not to let them hear your dirty little secret inside a bathroom that isn't even yours. 

He matched your pace. He couldn't help it, you were just too pretty not to take his time on. Start circling your puffy clit faster? He tightens his grip on his cock. 

Moan a little louder? He groans a little louder, too.

 Start plunging your fingers, knuckles deep into your small hole? He squeezes more lube out, not caring about the stray droplets that stain his fresh pair of jeans— greedily fisting all of his length, from the base to the tip, one hand under him, cupping and playing with his balls. 

His abs flexed with every shiver your hips gave, every jolt, every breath-like whimper boosting his libido– and his ego. 

He loved this. Every single bit of this. 

He loved the anonymity. The silent power over you. The knowledge of him holding something past personal against your dignity. 

He'd always been like that. Always analyzing. Always plotting. Then swooping in for the kill. Hoodie's done this to everybody. College hookups, his own colleagues, his own friends, victims… nothing— nobody stopped him. Because for a fact, he knows they can't. 

The cameras he installed picks up even the tiniest of noises. Each whimper. Each small cry. Each sharp inhale. Each slimy, disgraceful noise of your cunt being played with. 

Then, he feels his balls start to tighten– a very familiar sensation he's felt a hundred times inside numerous one night stands. He throws his head back, eyes shut like he entered nirvana, legs ready to firm and ground him–

“Are you enjoying this, mister Thomas?”

That wasn't his voice. 

“I know you're watching– hah– but I'm not complaining, either.”

Your voice slithered its way into his ears like a vice from his speakers. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

The camera was slightly tilted up now, half of your face visible with a fucked-out smile curled up in your cheeks. Like you knew exactly what he was doing. And really? You did. 

Hoodie didn't even realize he was still jerking his cock. The rather pleasant surprise catching him off guard and backed him away from the monitor. 

But when his vision focuses more and he sees you still fingering yourself? Still whoring yourself out even though you knew he was watching? 

He couldn't care less. 

In fact, he was impressed. How you saw his micro-sized cameras he doesn't know. What he does? You're loving it. 

A ping from your phone laying on the sink right outside the shower curtain you left wide open. Pressing your free hand momentarily into the dry towel you set on the rack, you reach for it, swiping up the lock screen like habit. 

Unknown number

Keep going and I won't leak your pretty little cunt to the whole mansion. 

You smiled. He was listening. You know that now. 

“Yes, sir.” a teasing giggle plunges out of your soft lips before you push your fingers inside your cunt once again, humming from the returned satisfaction. 

It wasn't long until you quickened your pace again. In and out, knuckles deep. Your ears felt like they were boiling with hot honey– not with shame. But with mischief and perverted thrill. Maybe even a smidge of smug victory. 

Hoodie is so used to having the upper hand. The winning spread. The higher percentage. 

He's bewildered– and turned on. You won his game. Lowered his chances. Set the cards down. 

It felt like you were pinning him down on his own chopping board. Losing was basically a foreign concept to him. 

And you know what? He'll let you pin him down. He'll let you win his game. He'll let you smile in his face and tell him he lost. 

It only makes it a bigger satisfaction when he takes it all back. Slowly. So painfully slowly. 

But right now? He wants to see you first. How far you'll go. How far you'll bend. All for him. 

“Hah– please, please, I'm– I think I'm cumming,” 

A heartless laugh escapes him. The way you were so willing–so trusting. 

Unknown number

You don't get to cum yet. Not until I say so. 

You can feel your heart break when your eyes flicker over the cruel message. Painfully, your fingers withdraw, knuckles creaking as if even your fingers miss the warmth already. 

The shower head was still in front of your clit. Thin jets of water spraying on your sensitive, throbbing nub. Not enough to be painful– just not enough to satisfy. 

Like water down the drain, the upcoming high you knew you shouldn't chase but tried anyway. 

The slick– your slick– ran down your fingers like clear, warm honey– desperation. Your desperation was trickling down your fingers, forming a long, sticky rope, glob running heavy then down with the water. 

Wasted.

You whine. Such an innocent sound for something so fucking raunchy. 

Your head bowed down, looking at your throbbing, painfully neglected cunt, tears forming in the corners of your glassy, beautiful eyes.

It was then Hoodie took the time to look at his aching mess of a cock. Untouched. Still proudly standing. Veins on the side, pulsing. Filthy globs of pre-cum soaking his dick wet. 

Both of his hands were propped on the armrests now. He also wanted to feel the uncatchable thrill like you did. But that doesn't mean he isn't holding back. 

He could only suck his teeth and hear his glove sprain and stretch over the plastic of his chair before he reaches for his phone again. 

Unknown number

Do it again. Moan louder this time. 

You couldn't help but bite your lip in anticipation, fingers immediately ramming themselves back in and out your soaked cunt– already finding the same high you were deprived of earlier. 

Then, an idea popped into your head. 

You stop your fingers. Pull them out, a lewd string of wet disconnecting when you bring it up to your chest. Then your lips. 

They parted automatically, the camera capturing a close-up of your hot mouth, fingers pressing themselves on the warm pad of your tongue, gathering a pool of saliva that sat in the very middle. 

Then, your fingers pushed deeper, choking yourself loudly enough for him to hear. 

You were deepthroating your own fingers– all for him. 

Then, you brought them out, saliva-coated, travelling down again– and pushing them deep inside your cunt once again, a loud, dirty sigh of relief escaping you. 

So dirty for such a sweet little thing. 

Hoodie almost came on his own. 

“What a slut,” He mutters, sucking his teeth before focusing on the screen again, trying so hard to ignore his throbbing cock. 

Unknown number

Don't cum until I say so. 

You grinned– weakly at your phone, the waves of your upcoming orgasm hindering your breath– shaky and unstable. 

Your moans are nothing short of downright nasty. Ragged breaths, whiny mewls, unheard plethoras of please, please, please and oh fuck–fuck and moremoremore filling up the tiles space. So loud your mind didn't seem to register that you don't live alone. 

It was getting difficult for you to maintain your balance with shaking legs. More even so with your clit so helplessly throbbing like it was screaming to be touched. Spanked. Spit on. Anything. 

Then, you feel your orgasm tipping you over— an unshakable force that leaves you too frail right after— a fact you've known from the endless nights you spent on masturbating alone. 

But now? Someone was watching you. An audience. 

And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

Finally, the glass tips over. Your head falls back, mouth open wide in a perfect O, hips bucking in small shivers, back twisting in pure bliss. 

You can feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, body giving out entirely while your walls come crashing down. 

After a few, heavy and broken breaths, your eyes blink open. 

Fuck. You weren't supposed to cum. 

A dark mess of fear and thrill fills your beating heart as you snap your eyes to your phone—

No notifications. 

You let out an uncertain, slightly relieved breath. 

The same breath that punches itself back into your throat when you hear loud, harsh knocks on your bedroom door. 

Now, your heartbeat grew heavy– and fast. You didn't know whether or not you were supposed to scream or smile– either way your lips pursed themselves tight, preparing for whatever impact came through. 

Wrapping a towel over your torso, your wet feet patters meekly on the tile floor, shuffling, inching more and more to the door. Hand reaching out to the cold metal of the handle— twisting it. Then, pulling it back slightly. Letting just a crack of light pass through before peeking your pretty little head out. 

You don't even get a proper look in before the door is slammed open, making you stumble over your feet and fall back right into your ass. 

Somewhere during the fall, your hand slips and lets go of the damp towel, the fabric falling flat off of your sides and on the floor, releasing the bounce of your tits and the heat of your cunt. 

Once you recover, your eyes flutter open as you look up to see Hoodie towering over you. 

And for what seems like an hour, he doesn't move. Doesn't budge. He watched. Mask hiked up to half of his face, like it was snagged on his head in a hurry. Lips blank, almost like he was pissed off. Jacket still on, but messy and wrinkled unlike how he usually looks. Fly open with the zipper half down. 

The whole scene felt so overwhelming but thrilling at the same time. Heart racing but heavy. Then, you smile. 

He clicks his tongue at this, hissing while his arm reaches back to push the door close with a click before crouching down. Silently. Deadly silent. 

“All this shit you give me and you're smiling,” he spat, hand clawing up your scalp and fisting your hair, tugging down, forcing you to look up at him. “What the fuck did I tell you not to do?”

A broken giggle from you. “Not to cum.” 

He tightens his grip, tugging like he was shaking some sense into you. “And what did you do?”

“I came.” you whine, teeth flashing still, smiling like you weren’t at the hands of someone who buried endless unnamed graves for bodies he himself killed. You can feel specks of spit spattering on your cheek. “You won’t be smiling after I’m done with you, slut. “

And with that, he harshly pulls your body up by your hair, waiting for you to stumble up to your feet before shoving you face-first into the bed.

You tried to get up. Propped your knees. Locked your elbows– only for them to painfully flatten under the weight of his leg pressing you down, his knee digging into your shoulder blade.

The heavy pain didn’t even make you wince in pain– you moaned. You moaned at the pain. Welcomed it. Loved it.

Even more when Hoodie’s arm raises up and strikes his hand down on your bare cunt, releasing a sweet little cry from you while he grinned at your puffy clit, fingers coming up and circling it in fast bursts of movement.

Your fingers clawed the sheets like vice. The contact of his rough pads making your hips buck. You arch your back as if it weren’t already so painful to be pinned down by half of his body weight.

Any more and you’d be crushed.

His other hand rested on the mound of your hips, trailing up and down your thigh, as if he were already imagining all the nasty things he has in mind for you. A warning to ruin you. 

His touches tell you a thousand words that cut to break you down, a thousand positions that expose more than just your body— but right now? This is perfect. 

Two fingers plunge into your cunt, not moving, not yet. Exploring. Stretching you out. 

He scissors his digits, hand only slightly moving in and out, his knuckles digging inside and pushing out along with your warm slick, seeping out and into the mattress of your bed. 

He occasionally stretches you wide open, peeking inside of your wet, gaping hole, before abruptly shoving it in again, making you yelp.

“Not even with my dick out and you’re already this fucking wet,” he grunts, blowing a small whirl of air out on your clit, grinning while your cunt pulsed at the coolness. “Filthy bitch.”

Like a machine, his fingers start to ram themselves in and out of your cunt at a harsh pace, the sensation leaving no room for your drawn-out moans— only for your loud gasps and short-lived chokes.

You feel yourself spasming again. Legs trembling and fingernails almost ripping through the sheets while your orgasm threatened to come crashing down. Your mouth opened, wider, releasing broken whines and gasps, eyes screwed shut.

“Yesyesyes– please, Hoodie, please–” 

“Brian.”

His voice booms through the thick cloud of sex– each syllable thudding along with the beat of your heart.

His pace doesn’t falter. “Say it. Or you’re not getting anything.”

Only desperate sobs came out of your mouth, slightly muffled by the drool pooling below your cheek.

“I said,” a hard slap on your ass. Then, a click– followed by what feels like his gun pressed on the back of his head. “Fucking say it.”

A choke. “Brian,” high pitched and shaky, “Brian– please.”

That was all he needed.

You sobbed at the loss of his fingers, squeaking at the sudden feeling of being carried and turned over, spine flattening against the mattress as you allow yourself to fall at his whim.

You don’t get a chance to position yourself properly before he slams his lips into yours– tongue breaking its way past your lips, swallowing your gasp.

Then, he pulls away, a nasty string of saliva disconnecting once he was near the side of your face, his hot breath over your ears. 

His tongue lolls out, dragging itself from your jaw to the corner of your eye. 

He was licking your tears. Brian was licking your tears. 

It made an impression on you– a sense of him devouring your suffering and denied pleasure. 

Raw. Filthy. Addicting. 

It sent a shiver down the back of your neck, legs pressing themselves together for any kind of friction, your neglected pussy throbbing like your heart beat. 

“Beg.” he growled. 

Your eyes flashed to him for a moment in confusion, the denial of your orgasm making it so that every word, every letter, flew over your head. 

“What–”

“I said beg, bitch.”

He slaps your face, hand immediately flying down to choke your neck, making you flinch, then mewl, then smile. Your whole body was giving itself to him– and he knows it. 

“I swear to fuckin’ god if you don't do what the hell I say,” the cock of his gun snapped you back into reality, a reminder of what he was capable of. 

And how heartless he could be. 

You bat your teary eyes, smile still clearly evident and pissing him off. 

“Pleaaase, please Brian, pleasee, I need it– need your cock.” you mewled so wantonly he found himself wondering if you were just as deep down the hole like he is. 

He wouldn't mind if it was true though. 

“Yeah? You want me inside that cute little pussy or yours? My fat fuckin’ cock?”

“Yes– yes please I need it– need it s’bad please-” You hadn't even realized he shoved his pants down to his knees, haphazardly pushed off and uneven without care. 

His cockhead pressed itself against your hole. Not entering. Just feeling. Up and down, slow schlicks gaining momentum and pace, mewls being teased out of you while your arms lay flat above your head, breath heavy and eyes fixed onto him. 

Then, his gun hit against your forehead. 

The clock on your night stand told him it was about thirty minutes past eleven– almost everyone would be in their rooms by now. 

“Play with your tits. And moan my name.” 

He pressed on harder. “Moan it like you mean it.”

Your cheeks flush– then your hands cup your tits, massaging them like how you would when you're alone, thumbs rubbing your tight nipples. 

It was one whimper after another, hips bucking to match how fast Brian guided his cock up and down. You felt his eyes dig into you despite him wearing a mask. 

“Brian..” You breathed, voice broken by lewd hysteria. 

You hear the safety click off. “Louder. Make them hear it. I want all of them to know how much of a slut you are.”

You whine, the shame of actually loving this situation sitting heavy in your heart, along with the other nasty things you want him to do to you. 

Taking in a sharp breath, thumbs circling faster on your nipples. “Brian–”

“Louder, bitch.” he presses even harder. 

“Brian!”

Your wanton cry bounced off of the walls, seeping through the thin wood of the rooms right beside yours. 

At this point, shame was a word foreign to you. Right now? Only pure thrill remains. 

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath before snapping his hips into your without warning, his length already deeming you full. 

The wind knocked out of your lungs when he started to move immediately, harsh and rapid, hungry. 

You scream, back pushing upwards while your hands flew to try to push him off– delay him. 

But Brian kept going. 

Every thrust, a punishment. Every bruise his fingers left, a warning. Every growl, a threat. 

“Not smiling now, are you, slut?” He grins, a noise between a laugh and a groan pushing out of him. 

Your face was nothing short of absolute ecstasy, every pathetic, disgusting, lewd wanton cry only adding up to his sick fantasies in his head. 

“Don't go all whiny on me now, you were just putting up a nice show for me in the shower.” his gravelly voice seeps its way into your ears, his breath marking itself on your creamy neck. 

Then, he props his body up, keeping his pace and position, one hand still holding the gun, and the other leaving your bruised hip to dig for something inside his jacket pocket. 

A camera appears in his hand, fingers hooked under the strap with the red, flicking light blaring in your face, watching you– mocking you. 

With your mind hazy and brain turned to mush, your cheeks slowly stretched wide, revealing each tooth one by one, before it becomes a lazy, fucked-out smile. 

Brian snorts. “That's right, baby. Prettiest fuckin’ pornstar I've ever seen.”

The screen of the camera– the same one he used to blackmail more than enough people— displayed you, your pretty little face, and your tits bouncing up and down. 

Then, the lens trailed lower and lower, capturing every detail from your torso down to your tightly-stuffed, wet, swelling pussy. 

Your clit glimmered with slick against the flash, a splatter of your juices being spread on his hips and yours, all being captured in a small screen. 

Brian knew for a fact he would be fisting his cock to this later this week. 

Then, the camera flicked back to your face, drool running down one side of your chin. 

His voice rasps. “You like this shit? You like being a whore?”

You smile wider, eyebrows scrunching together whenever the tip of his cock reaches that sweet, spongy spot you so desperately want to reach, nodding. 

“Then say it,” He hissed, landing a glob of spit on your tits, the sticky, warm saliva shaking and spreading with every thrust. 

With all the strength you have left, you breathe out. “Yes– I like– I love being a whore,” a few pants, then, “I love bein’ a whore, sir, I love it!”

Brian couldn't grin any wider. Your wanton, high pitched cries fuelled him more, his hips snapping so much faster, his tip fucking itself inside your cervix, reaching your womb. 

“You come when I say so,” He spat. “So don't fuck this up like last time.”

You inhale sharply, your orgasm starting to consume you.

“Yes sir– yes sir.”

The same hands you used to try and pry him off were now pulling him closer.

Like lightning, he goes faster– harder, until his hips rattled and twitched, cock swelling inside you. 

You feel everything. How his dick pulses when he goes in the deepest, how his camera gave you a bolting surge of energy you couldn't comprehend. 

“You like being watched?”

You nod. 

“Do you– fuck– even know who might see this shit?”

You shake your head. 

You feel him falling apart, and you are too– with tears running down like waterfalls and sweat coating your forehead, voice singing a vulgar melody you don't care who hears of it anymore. 

“I'm the first. Don't you ever fucking forget that. I'll be the first to make you fucking break.”

Then, a spike of lust balls up in your system, hips bucking and shaking like never before, cunt clenching on his hard, moving cock, each drag bringing your clit a flutter. 

“Brian! – ah, please– please let me cum, pleasepleaseplease–”

“Apologize.”

Your eyes open up in confusion, shooting him a look of plight, tears welling up under your eyes again. 

“Apologize for cumming without my permission.”

You sob. “Please, ‘m so sorry, I'm so sorry for cumming– please–”

“Tell me you love me.”

A thump in your heart falls a heavy beat, eyes blank with only his cock in your head, legs straining to delay your orgasm. 

The flash of the camera is still blinding your eyes while he continues to fuck into you, ragged breaths in between. 

“Tell me. Or I fucking shoot.”

He looks at you– you don't see it but you know he looked at you– 

“I love you.”

He groaned. “Again. Say it again. Look into the camera.”

Your eyes flicker, pupils changing size while they look directly into the lens, mouth glossy and sticky with spit. 

“I love you, Brian. I love you s'much,”

Brian groaned. Loud. His pace is uneven, now. With his gun dropping to the floor, hand flying to one side of your hips, grinding up and down every time he thrusted in, every drag earning him a shiver from himself– and a mewl from you. 

Then, he growled. “Now.”

And just like that, your body falls apart with a scream, his name drawn out in big, loud letters as your whole being trembles and falters, giving up completely. 

You feel a pressure on your body mid-orgasm, trying so hard to keep it in, but fail. 

You squirt all over his hips, your thighs, your sides– everything. And he moans, a hiss following before a spurt of his cum spills inside. 

A purr emanates from you when he pulled out, cock half-limp while his cum seeps out, your eyes staring at the mess.

He could feel your tinge of concern before he speaks. 

“Don't worry. Proxies– any resident here can't get anyone pregnant– or even get pregnant at all.”

He reaches over to grab his gun, stuffing it inside his now pulled-up jeans along with his camera, it beeping before he shoves it back into his jacket pocket. 

He shuffles his way back to your door. Calm. Unreadable. Like nothing ever happened.

Pulling the door open, but not completely. “I want you to keep my cum inside you until tomorrow. And don't even think about lying. I'll check.”

And with that, the door closed shut, the lock clicking into place, a quiet, meek sound, following a plethora of filthy, nasty sex that took place almost two minutes ago. 

Your hand reaches down, the huge, wet spot under your hips greeting you before your fingers rubbed themselves onto your clit, mewling at the post-sex contact. 

You would definitely let him check tomorrow.

[antlergrave]

[rattfreakk]

Marbletale! Brian

[horny-marbles]

P★RNSTAR (Hoodie x F!Reader)

CW: SEXTAPE BABYYY, rough handling, sloppy bj, mild degradation, lowkey mask kink

wordcount 1.5k

The car smells like sweat and upholstery, faint hints of leather, stale air, and the sharp, musky tang of skin and spit. The kind of heat that sticks to the back of your tongue. The kind of space that feels wrong to be so obscene in. Cramped. Intimate. All the better for what he’s doing to you.

The Sony Handycam is already recording. The tiny red light blinks slow and steady, like a heartbeat, perched perfectly between the front seats, balanced on the center console where the armrest flips up. Its unblinking eye drinks in everything: your body folded down into the backseat, knees pressed hard into the cushions, back arched for no reason than to be seen, ass high and already flushed from earlier slaps and gropes. Your arms tremble, bracing yourself on either side of his thighs.

His jeans are shoved down around his ankles, still in his scuffed black boots, legs spread wide and unapologetic. Hoodie pushed up just over his navel, stomach tight and hip muscles tense. He’s got one hand resting heavy on the curve of your skull, fingers tangled in your hair like a leash. His other arm rests on the edge of the seat, knuckles tapping absently as he watches you in the viewfinder through the blood red frown. Expressionless, unfeeling, commanding.

His cock is thick, flushed, glistening wet with your spit. Already leaking from the head as you choke yourself on it, working your lips as far down the shaft as your throat will let you. Your jaw aches. Your mascara is a smeared mess under your eyes, black streaks trailing down your cheeks, mingling with the spit that drips in long, milky ropes from your lips to the heavy weight of his balls. Everything’s wet. Your chin, your throat, the inside of your panties, the backseat under you.

He’s got your hair fisted into a knotted makeshift pony, pulling you back by it and shoving you back down at his heart's content. His voice is low and flat, cold as concrete, but it burns.

“Look in the lens.”

You try. Your lashes flutter, and your eyes roll up, locking onto the blinking red light of the camera as best you can while he rocks his hips up, slow and firm. One hand fists your hair tighter; the other clamps around your jaw to hold you still. His thighs flex under you as he fucks up into your throat in shallow thrusts, your cheeks hollow from sucking him so hard, so desperately that your throat’s gone raw. The sound of your choking echoes off the windows - obscene, slippery, wet. He rewards you with a sharp tug at your hair. You're running out of air, but you hold him so the camera catches everything.

“Fuckin’ drooling all over it,” he growls. “Sloppy bitch.”

You can’t answer - your throat full, lungs begging - but he doesn't want words. Just the sound of you gagging, choking, sputtering every time he forces you down.

He pulls you off with a wet, humiliating pop. You gasp, coughing, sniffling, strands of drool clinging from your lip to his tip. You’re a fucking mess: mouth open, panting, throat working with every breath. Your whole body feels slick with it. He grips your face in one large, gloved hand, tilts your chin up so the camera sees everything.

“Tongue out. Spit on it.”

You do, heavy and stringy, your saliva coating his cock in thick ropes, mixing with the rest. It shines under the dim light, dripping slowly down the shaft like syrup.

"Smile, slut."

You do. Wrecked. Giddy. Drunk off him. Then he drags your head back down again with a gritted groan, hips jerking up to meet you halfway, deeper than you can take. You gag, throat convulsing around him, nose pressed to the wiry hair at his base, spit bubbling out around the stretch of your lips.

He plants one boot flat on the backseat, sole grinding deep into the vinyl as his legs spread even wider. The position forces you in tighter, makes your back arch sharper, your knees strain. He uses the new angle for leverage, pulls you in, hand still fisted in your hair, the other clamping around your jaw so tight your ears ring.

Then he starts to fuck your throat.

No mercy. Just the wet slap of skin on skin as he drives up into your mouth in rough, punishing thrusts. The car rocks faintly on its suspension while his cock bulges your throat on every stroke. His grip on your head is iron-tight; he’s not letting you move, not letting you escape. Every thrust makes you gag, makes tears sputter out of your squinting eyes, makes your spit splatter messier over his thighs, makes the camera catch the slick slap of your face being driven down again and again and again.

The roof of your mouth fucking aches, lips swollen and slick, snot dripping down your upper lip and getting lost in the pool of drool on his cock, but he doesn’t let you rest long. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat, not choking, just grabbing - rude, possessive - and he uses the grip to pull you off him like you’re weightless. You fall forward into his lap, chest heaving, arms scrambling for balance. One foot kicks out and nearly smacks the camera, and he growls low in his chest, voice sharp under the mask.

“Watch the fuck out.”

Not angry. Just mean.

You mutter a breathless apology, eyes watery, and shift to straddle him in reverse, thighs trembling. Your ass settles against his lap, thighs trembling as you spread them wide over his, your feet planted on either side of his hips. His boots squeak faintly against the footwell when he adjusts, legs still spread wide, giving the camera a full view of your dripping pussy pressed tight to the fabric of your panties, and the full view of his twitching cock, sitting upright against his stomach like a threat.

You barely get your balance before his arm snakes tight around your shoulders, thick forearm under your chin, pulling you back into a tight headlock that bends your spine in a bow against him. Tits up, hand limp over his wrist at your ear just for some semblance of leverage, mouth slack and breath hitching in your throat. Your thighs twitch as he yanks the soaked fabric of your panties aside - not even bothering to pull them off, just ripping them to the side hard enough that the elastic bites your skin.

Your cunt is already puffy, messy, shining wet - he’d fucked you raw before the camera even started rolling, and it shows. He lines his cock up, slippery and flushed and angry, the tip nudging between your folds like it belongs there.

“Sit.” His voice is quiet. Commanding. Like he expects to be obeyed without question.

You sink down, trembling.

You gasp, head back, mouth open, as he fills you up in one thick, slippery thrust, and the camera catches the obscene way your body jerks. He groans into your hair, low and satisfied, one hand moving from your throat to your waist to hold you steady.

“Fuck yourself on it.”

You try. You do.

Your hands grab at the seats in front of you, your hips start to rock, bouncing as best you can in the cramped space. Every drop of wetness between your legs gets pushed out around his cock as you bounce, thighs trembling, the slap of skin on skin getting louder with every movement.

But your legs give quick. He fucked the strength out of them earlier, and now your thighs are shaking, your head rolling back against his shoulder as your rhythm slows.

“Harder.”

You whine, breathless.

“Bounce, slut.”

You whimper, trying. Trying to bounce faster, push down harder, grind the way you know he likes, but it’s useless. Your legs are trembling too much, your pussy twitching from the overuse, soaked and overstimulated.

Suddenly, his hands slide down, grab behind your knees, and suddenly you’re airborne - feet planted high into the backs of the front seats, hips lifted completely off his lap as he keeps you suspended above his cock, like a toy. Your arms flail for balance but there’s nowhere to hold onto, just him. And with your ass lifted and your cunt spread wide open for him, he starts fucking up into you. Brutal. Unrelenting. Hard.

The car rocks with every thrust, the windows rattling.

“Dick too good, huh? You look like a fucked out whore,” he murmurs against your ear, breathless. “Camera's fuckin' lovin' it."

You look straight into the lens, sobbing, helpless, crying from the overstimulation, but your mouth’s hanging open in a dumb, blissed out grin, drooling all over yourself, teeth glinting with spit, tits bouncing with every hard snap of his hips. You look destroyed. You feel like a fucking pornstar.

[solazu1]

Ignore how much effort I put into Jay Merrick please it’s embarrassing.

[kalmiaclown]

+ extra silly and blank:

[t3am-r0adk1ll]

hi. can have nsfw alphabet with brian thomas please. i beg you.🙏 (sorry, im writing through a translator.)

Note: this took me SO LONG. i am sorry. but i'm trying to be back trust trust ily anons <33

NSFW Alphabet with Brian!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Brian is a little mean in bed, he likes to overstimulate you until you’re crying and shaking, so he’ll make sure to take proper care of you afterwards! if you want a bath or snacks, he’s on it.

Hoodie on the other hand won’t be as attentive, but will still hug you and play with your hair caringly while you fall asleep. And then he’ll leave, or if he doesn’t to do anything, he’ll stay and watch you sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Both Brian and Hoodie love your eyes. How pretty they are, how you look at him, how tears fall from them because of the overstimulation he provides you.

Brian’s favorite part of his body is his hands. they’re nice hands, and he can feel you up and make you feel good with them. Hoodie doesn’t really have a favorite part of his body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) on your ass, stomach, or face. he’ll cum inside if you ask, but he’ll be a little hesitant to do so. he cums a normal amount of, it’s a bit thicker though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) sometimes when you’re on the phone with him and he’s very needy, he palms himself to your voice. you could be there talking about the most trivial, boring shit ever, and he’s over there handling his boner while listening to your voice.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) he wasn’t a player back in high school, but we can all see how handsome he is, so he definitely has had a few lays. idk about relationships though, he doesn’t seem interested in those. not until you came along, at least.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) doggy or leap frog. he just has this thing for cumming all over your ass, and those are positions in which he can do that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) maybe Brian can crack a joke or two about how sensitive you are or how good you taste, he’s a tease. Hoodie is usually silent, don’t expect much verbal communication from him at all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) he doesn’t grow much hair, but what he grows he keeps trimmed. not completely shaved, just trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) sometimes Brian will feel more romantic and be super intimate with you!! Hoodie mostly has sex with you because he’s frustrated so he’ll be more rough though- sorry :[ (unless you like that-)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) not often. before you, he doesn’t really need to do that on a regular basis, only when he happens to have an erection and has to get it done with. after you, he’d rather just fuck you instead.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) i think i might’ve seen this hc somewhere but I absolutely think that Brian would love to see you in lingerie. if it’s lacy you’re driving him insane.

Hoodie has a corruption kink, he’ll want to see you start taking in his bad habits like smoking or doing drugs now and then.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Brian loves to make it very romantic, so he’ll want to do it in private places like your bedroom or the bathtub.

Hoodie prefers free access: whenever he wants it, wherever he wants it. If he wants you right after coming back from a mission, you better be ready.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) For Brian, to just see you doing normal stuff like reading or watching a movie while you’re wearing just a shirt of his and your underwear, that would make him pounce on you asap.

For Hoodie, it’s seeing you indulge in the bad habits he passed down to you. If he finds you smoking a cigarette on the porch, he’s dragging you inside the house immediately.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Brian wouldn’t hurt you any further than spanking, not even if you asked. Hoodie might be a little more rough, he wouldn’t go to the point of drawing blood though.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Both would rather give. Brian is pretty skilled, he makes you cum more than once in 10 minutes, and Hoodie would rather edge you for like half an hour before making you cum the hardest.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Brian will mostly want to be slow and sensual, unless he’s really pent up and really needs you, in which occasion he’ll be a little more rough. Hoodie is rough, but he loves controlling your orgasm, so he’ll make sure you last at least two hours before he lets you cum.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Both Brian and Hoodie are fine with quickies. If you really need it, no problem.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Hoodie will probably make you experiment stuff without you asking… and as for Brian he’s fine with doing new things to you, he’s a little hesitant about you doing anything to him. (as in for example I don’t think he’d let you peg him 🧍)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Oh, this man lasts at LEAST an hour and a half. With Hoodie, definitely expect more than one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Not toys per se, but things like ropes and handcuffs that Hoodie stole are things that you can incorporate in bed. oh, Hoodie would also use his gun as a prop.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Brian is a bit of a tease, but he can’t hold back much with you. Hoodie, as I mentioned previously, would edge tf out of you. Edge you for hours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Brian grunts and sighs enough for it to be pleasant. Hoodie is mostly dead silent unless he’s commanding you to do something.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) If he’s got days-long missions, Hoodie’s taking a pair of your panties with him. Also, expect phone sex with Brian. And probably sexting with Hoodie.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Fairly muscular, not like BUILT but you can tell he has some muscles alright. BLOND HAPPY TRAIL 🤤🤤🤤 now about that dihh; not as girthy as Tim's but still has good girth, you can feel that thing alr, but it is on the longer side (a little under 7 inches)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Brian isn't super needy, he really just adjusts to how high yours is. Hoodie isn't going to fuck you every night, either, but when he wants it, he's not taking no for an answer.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Brian falls asleep a little after you, he likes to watch you fall asleep. Unless he's sleep deprived from missions, then he'll fall asleep almost immediately after you're done 😭

Hoodie will watch you sleep, unless he has somewhere to be, then he'll make sure you're asleep before leaving.

[mickey-bees]

POV: bugs when you pick up a rock

[strawberyz]

Who are you, really? - AU by @mystycor !!!!!

I got too silly 💥💥💥💥 CLICK THE IMAGE FOR BETTER QUALITY !!!

[marcati1]

Something for a post marble hornets AU i’m currently writing, don’t want to say much since it’s pretty barebones right now… but this was inspired by Hannibal! (s1 04 “Oeuf”)

[shroomies69]

Hello again! I finished it!

It's been forever since I've done a serious MH piece cause I mostly enjoyed doodling them (seriously last time I actually tried, I was 10)

These are my favorites ngl

[antlergrave]

girls night‼️